


Getting Grayson-ed

by wickedcoolghost



Category: Young Justice (Cartoon)
Genre: Father Figures, Light Angst, M/M, Mind Manipulation, Past Dick Grayson/Zatanna Zatara, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-31
Updated: 2017-05-31
Packaged: 2018-11-07 05:51:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,928
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11052648
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wickedcoolghost/pseuds/wickedcoolghost
Summary: It started as Nightwing/Superboy porn, but somehow it caught feelings. Between s1 and s2. After watching M'gann use her powers to wipe an enemy soldier, Superboy finds solace and fun with Nightwing Dick "the Dick" Grayson. Mood swaps between porny and angsty.eta: I think this is gonna be unfinished for all time. We'll see what happens in the new season.





	Getting Grayson-ed

The first time he'd seen M’gann destroy a man--rip through the his mind like steel through paper--he barely understood what was happening. Trapped in a warehouse in Bialya, soldiers running a search grid just outside, a host of about twelve or fifteen hostiles in the warehouse itself, Superboy and M’gann were waiting for a chance to escape. The League had been ordered to remain neutral in the latest battle between Bialya and Qurac, so the team couldn't risk an international incident here--the two of them could not allow themselves to be spotted. But neither could they let Queen Bee steal the Wayne Tech that the Quracis were using to fight her seductive power. And now the two of them were stuck without backup.

It was too tense, too close in the dark, hiding behind crates of machinery, and Superboy could feel his anger heating up. Memories of Cadmus. Claustrophobia.

_ Conner? _ M’gann asked, telepathically.

Superboy grunted in response. That he could be surly even over telepathy was a team joke.

He heard M’gann move closer, and she put her hand on his arm.  _ We really need to get out of here. _

The anger flared up again.  _ I'm open to ideas. _

Telepathy didn't share tone, exactly, but Superboy knew M’gann well enough to imagine her worried expression.

_ Conner, it's going to be fine. Try to stay calm for me. _

Superboy tried to relax. He turned up his palm and took M’gann's hand.  _ So what's the plan? _

_ I'll pull on the camouflage and create a distraction. When it's clear, you can run through, and then we’ll go over the back wall. Sphere can get us home from there. _

Superboy ground his teeth.  _ I hate when you do that. _

He heard M’gann giggle softly and a warm feeling ran down his stomach. She kissed him on the cheek.  _ I know. But it'll be quiet. I'll be right back. _

She vanished under her hood, and floated away. He watched through infrared as she levitated over the soldiers; a loud crash on the opposite side of the warehouse sent most of the red human-blobs running away from his hiding place. He quickly slipped through a space in the crates, dodging the one man either too professional or too lazy to leave his post. He blinked off the infrared, because it threw off his ability to move; he didn’t notice that another Bialyan had spotted him.

In a flash, M’gann dropped down behind the soldier. Her hand covered his mouth, and her eyes glowed bright, bright green. The man folded at the knees.

There wasn’t time to react; Superboy never even slowed down. Out the back door, over the wall, and away.

It's only in the Cave that it fully hits him. During their debrief with Nightwing--only recently sixteen and newly named--and Black Canary, M’gann gives her story in clipped tones. Her serious, objective observer voice--he could tell from the way her lips moved.

There was a dense whine in his ear that blocked all sound; the same whine from the Cadmus pod; the same whine that he still heard sometimes when he wakes up from the nightmare, unable to move. He was sitting off to the side, watching M’gann’s face, but all he could see was the slack jaw of the Bialyan soldier, drooling, as M’gann’s green eyes stripped him of everything. 

He blinked, and was suddenly looking into a different pair of bright eyes. Blue this time. He jumped.

“Easy, Kon.” Nightwing smiled at him through his domino mask. He was crouched down next to Superboy’s chair.

Superboy glanced around; M’gann and Black Canary had gone.

“Are you all right? Feeling the aster?”

Superboy felt his frown twitch up slightly. “Yeah, I’m feeling it,” he said.

Nightwing was hard to read sometimes. But Superboy thought he looked concerned. “You were pretty quiet during the debrief,” he said. “Quieter than usual, I mean.”

Superboy looked down at the floor. “Yeah.”

“Nothing you need to tell me?” Nightwing asked. Superboy felt a hand on his shoulder. The touch felt good.

“Nah.”

“Just let me know man. That’s my job.”

“Sure.”

***

It was months later. 

He’d left M’gann, and she’d found Lagoon Boy. It seemed incredibly fast, to him. He'd been lonely since, but the idea of sharing a bed with M’gann after what she'd done...what she continued to do…. It made him panic, and he felt like vomiting.

Nightwing and Zatanna had given each other up, too, likely for good. It was strange to see the two of them together, laughing, in the kitchen. He’d heard the joke, but hadn’t understood it--some secret nonsense between the two of them. Zatanna was pretty when she laughed.

It was strange that Nightwing seemed so at ease around her. The difference between their breakup and his was difficult to understand. Of course, Nightwing was easy with everything; Superboy had watched him change over the last few years; had seen young arrogance change into true confidence, even as his own face in the mirror remained unchanged.

Superboy was trying to ignore them; he was watching one of the endless documentaries that Wally liked, about space, or space time, or something. He didn’t really remember why he was watching it; he didn’t really feel up to finding something else.

“Hey Kon.” Nightwing fell into the couch next to him. “Whatcha watching?”

“Uh. No idea.”

Nightwing grinned, and settled his arm on the back of the couch, behind Superboy's neck. “So this is what we’re doing tonight, huh?”

Superboy shrugged. “No other plans. Thought you were hanging with Zatanna.”

Nightwing shrugged back. “She’s gone, dude. Everybody is. Nobody wants to hang around for the graveyard shift on a Friday.”

“Just us then?” Superboy asked. He felt his face heat a little at the idea. Avoiding M’gann had only been half the battle, lately.

Nightwing seemed unconcerned sitting next to him. Per regulation, as Shift Captain, he was wearing his uniform: his new one, now black and blue and lacking a cape, showed off his muscular frame.  A few months without...release, and Superboy was very aware of Nightwing's...everything.

“Yeah,” Nightwing said. “Zatanna left for her witch retreat, Wally and Art are eating with his parents, the Aquas are probably having fish sex in the harbor…”

Superboy sputtered out a laugh. He could see Nightwing's eyes sparkling.  “ _ Fish _ sex?”

“Dunno what else you'd call it. Pearl diving? Angling? Oyster shucking?” 

Superboy stared at him for a moment and then was laughing so hard that it hurt. 

Nightwing was grinning. “Polishing the harpoon?” he asked.

It took a long minute for Superboy to get a real breath back. When he did, he had to avoid Nightwing's eyes as he said, “Clam digging.”

Nightwing bent over at the waist laughing. He looked very pretty when he laughed. They fell into an easy, giggly silence. Nightwing slowly rubbed circles through Superboy's hair: it felt nice, the touch, and Superboy let himself drift.

Sometime after the end of the documentary and well after Aqualad and Aquagirl had returned from the harbor (Superboy avoided looking them in the eye; luckily, that wasn’t unusual. He heard Nightwing choke quietly on another laugh), Superboy jumped. Nightwing was staring at him; Superboy realized he’d been staring at a dark television.

“What?”

Nightwing shrugged. “I just asked if you wanted a drink. You were lost there for a bit.”

“Just thinking.”

Nightwing stood and stretched. “About anything special?” he asked. 

Superboy was suddenly eye level with an excellent ass.  _ Now  _ he was definitely thinking about something very special. He felt his cheeks turn red. “Not-not really,” he stammered. “Just stuff.”

Nightwing turned to face him. Superboy quickly jerked his gaze up to more socially acceptable areas. Nightwing gave him a knowing look. “Sure,” he said. “Thirsty?”

Superboy felt a gulf of possibility open in front of him. His gaze flickered back down; the view had changed, though not for the worse. He felt his face get warmer. He dragged his eyes back upward; Nightwing had a massive grin on his face. “Not thirsty,” Superboy answered.

Nightwing straddled Superboy’s lap with acrobatic grace. He put both his hands on Superboy’s shoulders and brought their foreheads together. “Not thirsty,” Nightwing repeated. “Is this what you want instead?”

Superboy swallowed. He felt his hand move up to Nightwing’s thigh, to help steady him, and then moved the other up to Nightwing’s mask.

Nightwing let him take the mask off; Superboy looked into his eyes. “Have you done this before?” Superboy asked.

“What, laying pipe?”

Superboy started laughing again. Nightwing winked at him. “I’ve done this before: intercourse, outercourse, off course, and golf course. What about you?”

“Just with M’gann.”

“No guys, huh?”

“I guess not.” The truth was that, even after M’gann learned that Earthlings didn’t find the shapeshifting game appropriate, they’d still played. They’d just been more discreet. After all, Superboy wasn’t really an Earthling.

Nightwing leaned in and kissed him. “Well,” he said, “we can change that.”

They stayed in that position for a long time, gentle chaste kisses growing deeper and more urgent. Superboy's hands had shifted to Nightwing's ass, and he squeezed it for the novelty of having access. He felt his erection pushing against the waistband of his jeans, and a corresponding bulge, indistinct under the uniform and whatever protection Nightwing had. It was strange to think about proper athletic support with Nightwing's tongue in his mouth, but Superboy was used to the weird thoughts you get when your blood rushes south.

Eventually Nightwing sat back and looked him in the face; one of Superboy's hands shifted upward to steady him. Nightwing's lips were swollen from bruising kisses, and there was a dark mark on the side of his jaw where Superboy had briefly forgotten his Kryptonian strength. He traced the line of Superboy's mouth with his thumb. “Still whelmed, Kon?”

Superboy swallowed and felt himself actually smile. “Whelmed, yeah. Maybe a little over--.”

“Aww, dude. Not even naked and I've whelmed you over.” Nightwing lifted one leg over Superboy's lap and gracefully landed beside him on the couch.

Superboy felt his smile droop a bit. “I didn't mean you should stop.” He hated the whining tone in his own voice.

Nightwing patted Superboy's thigh and then somehow got a handful of Kryptonite. Superboy sighed at the contact.

“I'm not stopping,” Nightwing said. “This is a check-before-wrecking pause.” He lightly squeezed the Superballs. “Are you ok?”

Superboy closed his eyes. Why did it always come back to feelings? “Yuh. I mean. Yeah.” He felt himself choke a little.

“I mean, we can stop.” Nightwing's hand relaxed, and Superboy could feel the moment start to end. 

“Please,” Superboy begged. He couldn't open his eyes, and he still avoided Nightwing's face. “Please don't--don't leave.”

Nightwing put his hand over Superboy's closed eyes. “I'm not going anywhere,” he said.

Superboy tried very very hard to believe him.

***

“Superboy?” Batman called out from his almost entirety unused office. “You're next.”

Superboy rolled his eyes. He'd been to school for long enough to find this treatment--sitting in the hallway, waiting for the authority figure--completely ridiculous, if not insulting. He stood, as Nightwing stepped out of the office and held the door open.

Superboy tried to ignore Nightwing's stance; it wasn't subtle, where exactly the costume encouraged one to look. Nightwing himself just smiled, friendly, easy as usual, and held the door. It was weeks later.

Superboy dredged up his lighter frown and nodded to the other man; then stepped into the Bat-Cubicle. Artemis had shown him the campy television show; they'd named the room, privately, in its honor.

Batman looked up from a WaynePad, and nodded to a chair. “Please sit.”

Superboy remembered--literally years ago--when he'd have refused automatically. Now he was a part of the team. A real person. He could sit or not sit and it wouldn't make any difference, because he could do either.

He decided to stand. “I'm fine, thanks.” His tone sounded polite enough.

“Fine,” said Batman. “Quarterly review time. I don't need to tell you that I don't want to be here, but Black Canary is teaching hand-to-hand on Oa this quarter. So you're stuck with me.” He carefully opened a green folder and added a blank page behind all the others. “So. Tell me things. Preferably after the last review.” His pen hovered over the white paper.

Superboy crossed his arms. “Stuff happened. I debriefed after all the missions.”

Batman nodded. He carefully wrote, and muttered as he did. “Stuff...happened...debriefed...missions.” He looked up. “And?”

Superboy shrugged. “Not much else.”

Batman looked back down. “Not...much...else…” he said. Superboy watched his pen move across the page. It wasn’t in English.

“You're not writing down what I'm saying, are you,” Superboy said. He felt his biceps tighten.

“No,” Batman said, still looking at the page and still writing.

Superboy took in a deep breath and sighed through his nose. “If you're not writing down what I'm saying, do you even need me? The surveillance probably has enough already.”

“The surveillance has plenty, actually,” Batman said, still writing. He'd filled a page and started another. He paused and looked up, “Unless you have something to tell me.”

Superboy kept his gaze for a few moments, but it was impossible to look at the Bat-Helm for long. He dropped his eyes. “Nothing.”

Batman nodded and started writing again. “The purpose of these reviews,” he said, his pen moving quickly on the page, “is to get what the operatives leave out of the debrief. I've seen your field work and it lately doesn't need review.” He finished another line--whatever code he was writing in, he'd filled three pages--and put down his pen. “If you were a bit less surly, I’d be recommending you for a leadership role.” He looked up. “And yes, I understand the irony in that statement.”

Superboy squared his shoulders. “Then if you’re finished reviewing me, can I go?”

Batman stared at him for a moment. It was hard to tell what he was feeling under the cowl, but he was tapping the desk with his finger. Finally, he said, “I know about Nightwing.”

Superboy felt his face go white. “I don’t-- Don't know what you're talking about.” Superboy could hear the Cadmus whine start up again--it was a cold counterpoint to the hot rage under his sternum.

Batman titled his head. “I’m sure,” he said. He carefully closed the file folder and replaced it in the desk. “Sit down, please,” he said, and gestured toward the chair. “I’d like to discuss you and Nightwing.”

Suddenly Superboy moved across the office and stood directly in front of the desk. “What,” he said, “do you know about Nightwing.” He hadn’t quite managed to make it a question. He felt an edge to his words as the heat in his chest intensified. He glanced pointedly at the massive BatComputer in the corner, “You get off on watching cameras in your little cave?”

“It wouldn’t be the first time you put your hormones on display. Or have you forgotten ‘sparring’ with Megan?”

Superboy felt his vision go red and he slammed his hand down on the desk. There was a shriek of tortured steel; his hand had torn a hole right through the center of the desk, sending pens and papers flying everywhere. 

Batman might have blinked, under his mask, but he didn't flinch. “You don't scare me, Kon-El,” he said quietly. “I'm not Superman.”

Superboy tried to stop his recoil and almost succeeded. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“It means what it means.” Batman stood and quickly stepped around the destroyed desk. He crossed his arms and looked Superboy in the face. “This isn't an interrogation, Kon-El. You've done well in the field for the last few months. You've been driven, you've been focused, and you've achieved most of your objectives and followed order as appropriate.” Then he jerked his head to the mangled steel. “And now you've accidentally shredded steel because I asked you about a boy you like. I find that concerning.”

Superboy felt his face go red, and the hot rage in his chest shrank into shame. It had been years--almost literally--since he'd destroyed something by reacting badly. “I'm sorry,” he said. “I could have seriously hurt you.”

“Actually, you could have killed me without thinking,” he said, his tone even and matter-of-fact. “And that's why I want to talk to you about Nightwing.” He carefully extended an arm and put a hand on Superboy's shoulder. “I'm not your father, but Dick is some of the only family I have. He's old enough to decide who he sleeps with, but he's also human. I wouldn't exactly call him fragile,” here he hitched up one side of his face, and Superboy couldn't help giving an awkward laugh, “But this is something you have to keep in mind if you two are going to be together.”

Superboy hesitated. “I don't, uh. I mean, it was just that one time… I don't know if anything will happen.” He blushed again at the thought.

Batman shrugged. “Either way, it's probably something you'll need to think about in the future. You'd be surprised who you end up in bed with, in this business.” He lifted his hand from Superboy's shoulder. “So, that's enough for today. If you have any questions…” He trailed off, and cocked his head.

“Yeah,” Superboy said, turning to go. “I'll let you know.”

**Author's Note:**

> Whoo. Like I said, this was initially going to be porn, but then Batman got all father-figure-y out of nowhere. If I were to guess, I'd say there's at least one conflict with M'gann and one with Superman in the future, not to mention something that actively tries to stop the Superwing (Nightboy?) from happening. So this is probably going to shift away from canon as it goes--less AU and more What-if?
> 
> Also, I'm fairly new to fandom and incredibly new to DC fan fic. So if you can't be kind, no Dick Grayson blowjobs for you.


End file.
